


Steve Rogers v the Emotional Struggles of Forgiveness

by Hey_Diddle_Diddle25



Series: Avengers v Being a Team (Take 2) [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: But They Don't Really Appear All That Much, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Language, Nor Have They Raced Yet, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, There's 2 Quicksilvers, because MAGIC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7686055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hey_Diddle_Diddle25/pseuds/Hey_Diddle_Diddle25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You look familiar,” the robber stated slowly, and Steve’s muscles jerked on instinct because the last thing anybody needed was for Tony to be recognized and taken hostage.</p><p>Unfortunately the robber saw his sudden movement as a threat and pulling the trigger was quicker than anything Steve would’ve been able to do. The force of the bullet planting itself in his shoulder knocked him over, his head banging against the shelves knocking over several jars of peanut butter.</p><p>or</p><p>Steve is convinced that him and Tony need to have a talk about everything that’s happened. Now if only life would stop getting in the way that’d be great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve Rogers v the Emotional Struggles of Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: language, grown men being terrible with emotions, and a disappointing lack in anybody that's not Tony or Steve (sorry). Also still not a fix-it, just me messing around with the characters.
> 
> There's also non con of a minor so please heed the tags and tread cautiously.

Everything changed while nothing had at all.

The world seemed to go back to the times before Ultron had taken so much, and it was surprisingly easy to shift into the man he had been before the whole world had changed. Everything except Tony Stark, who had seemed to have started trying to kill Steve, Clint and Natasha with kindness.

That was, surprisingly enough, the worst part about the whole thing. Not even the fact that Peter and Erik were stuck until Wanda managed to figure out a way to reverse what she’d done. Mostly because the father and son duo seemed to take it all in excellent stride, taking to this world like a fish to water. They also seemed to have attached themselves to Tony’s hip.

Tony didn’t seem to mind all the attention, always willing to stop in whatever he was doing to speak with them. Steve never heard what they would talk about but the way Tony’s entire expression would light up whenever they spoke indicated that it was something science related.

Not that Steve missed that. He hadn’t even understood most of the stuff that came out from Tony’s mouth whenever he’d get super excited about something. It was just strange, the way Peter’s eyes would light up or how Erik would give thin smiles Steve suspected meant so much more than he’d ever let on.

Instead of dwelling on the cards life seemed to lay out for them, he would busy himself with helping Wanda or sparring with Natasha or chop firewood with Clint while Wanda would hover and fret over her twin, and neither Clint nor Natasha ever said anything but Steve suspected that Tony’s sudden attitude shift bothered them as well.

Tony just didn’t act polite towards them, not even when they’d first met. He was arrogant and loud and made it extremely clear that he wasn’t nor ever intended to be a ‘team player.’ Now he just wasn’t, and it was weird. More than that it was disconcerting to know they’d upset the man so much that he resorted into burying his feelings so far that he had to change himself completely to compensate, and Steve would do anything to get Tony to go back to an obnoxious jerk.

Steve got his first chance three days after their arrival at the small cabin in the form of a thin lipped Clint as he stopped at his side.

Steve had been standing in the living room by the fireplace watching Wanda and Pietro sitting side-by-side on the small cot in the corner. Their heads were bent over, temples touching as they smiled and laughed and reconciled, Wanda’s hand touching her brother at all times- as if to reassure herself that it was real and her brother was alive.

“We’re almost out of food,” Clint informed him as he hooked his hip against the doorframe, eyes settling on the Maximoff siblings, face settling in that familiar protective way of his.

The fact Pietro had died rescuing him hadn’t been something he’d been able to get over easily, Steve knew, and it was strange seeing the younger male walking and talking once mor.

“I’ll handle it,” Steve reassured without taking his eyes off the twins.

“How?” Clint pressed as his gaze turned towards him and added, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t have any money and if I wanted to enlist in someone to steal I’d ask Nat and maybe Tony’s newest pet-”

“I said I’ll handle it,” Steve repeated, pushing himself upright as he tipped his head towards the window to where Peter was avidly listening to whatever Tony was telling him and Erik.

“You sure about that?” Clint demanded concernedly, “because maybe it’s just me but I don’t think Tony’s new attitude towards us indicates that he’s forgiven us. Not that I’ve forgiven him. No siree. Not in this lifetime.”

Which meant that he already had, and the fact that Tony hadn’t bruised his ego enough that he was going to hide it under whatever façade that just was.

“I know,” Steve reassured tipping his head so he could see out the window where Erik, Tony and Peter stood; Erik was warping a piece of metal Tony had no doubt given him while Tony babbled on about something as he scrawled stuff on one of his tablets.

Clint followed his gaze, expression softening as he took in the man they once called a teammate, and Steve thought that if they had looked upon him like Peter currently was then they never would’ve lost him. If Steve had just trusted him a little more, told him about his parents-

Except he hadn’t _wanted_ to hurt Tony further. He knew that the man was just starting to come to turns with their accident, the last argument he shared with his father before he was orphaned, and it just seemed cruel to jump in and tell him that they’d been murdered above everything else.

“You think you’ll need backup?” Clint asked when Steve still didn’t move, lost in his thoughts of all the mistakes and choices he’s ever made in his lifetime.

He should have stayed with Peggy instead of crashing that place into the ice.

He should have been the bigger man when he first met Tony instead of falling so easily in every snide remark or carefully crafted word.

He should have seen Tony suffering after the events in New York, should have known that he hadn’t actually died in his Malibu home.

He should have, but he didn’t.

Steve shook his head in response to Clint’s question as he pushed himself to move towards the door with a quick, “I’ll handle this.”

Wanda glanced up from her spot beside her brother, worried frown marring her features. Unlike Pietro, who was still mostly oblivious about everything that’s happened since his death, she had bore witness to the rift Steve had created between him and Tony.

She didn’t rise to stop him, staying by her brother’s side, and Steve took little comfort in that. It either meant that she thought they were a lost cause or that there was a chance of them reconciling before all this was over. He really hoped it was the latter, however unlikely that seemed.

The outside air was brisker than he’d anticipated, snatching his breath for a moment, and he could feel the goosebumps snaking their way across his skin underneath his jacket. He paid it no mind as he moved to where Tony was still studying Erik’s abilities, rattling off things that sounded just on the cusp of unrecognizable.

Erik just nodded and changed his stance or the piece of metal’s shape and Steve figured that he probably had a Tony somewhere in his time place. Peter looked as oblivious as Steve always felt whenever Tony would get into conversations with Bruce, but his eyes were still shinning as he took both the older men in with a raptured expression.

He was also the first one to notice Steve’s approach.

Peter frowned at the sight of him, head tilting over to where Tony was still speaking to Erik, and Steve liked Peter but he didn’t feel that the feelings were shared. Not that he could blame the kid considering how taken with Tony he was, removing what little chances Steve had with the kid.

Erik suddenly asked something, coming off as smart and confident as Tony or Bruce and Steve realized two things: he probably knew of Steve’s approach, and that he was as smart as he was scary- nearly taking the remaining members of the Avengers out without breaking a sweat.

Tony never noticed, not even when Steve stopped before them as he crossed his arms in front of him and waited to be acknowledged. Tony just kept his head buried in his tablet as he waved his hand and rattled something off that sounded like it meant to be comforting.

Peter elbowed him in the side before batting his eyelashes innocently while the metal Erik had been controlling dropped to the palm of his hand. Father and son gave Steve a wary expression as Tony glanced up for the first time since Steve stepped outside, mouth open like he was going to say something, and he nearly choked when he caught sight of Steve before him.

“Rogers,” Tony greeted as gracefully as he could, fingers clutching the tablet a little tighter as he regarded him with a guarded expression.

“Stark,” Steve said back because if Tony was reverting them back to a last name basis then he wasn’t going to give the man the pleasure of anything more.

Who would’ve thought the great Captain America was capable of being such a petty man?

Tony, probably.

“Can I help you with something?” Tony asked, eyes narrowed at him suspiciously as if he was staring inside everything Steve once and will ever be.

“We’ve run out of groceries,” Steve explained as he allowed his voice to take on a more casual tone, unwilling to just abandon the relaxation the two used to share before Zemo threw it all back into their faces.

Tony gave him a look that just screamed ‘ _what would you like me to do about that?_ ’ before he shrugged as he turned back to his tablet and inquired, “Why don’t you go get some then Rogers? I’m sure Wanda would be most appreciative of that.”

And it was so uncanny because Wanda had been there, Wanda had chosen Steve’s side yet she was the only one Tony seemed to have forgave. Yet whenever Steve rushes forward to protect loved ones he’d seen die he was instantly targeted as the bad guy.

Unfair, he knew, considering Bucky wasn’t the reason Tony was mad at him. Wasn’t even close to what finally broke Tony’s protective front, sending them all to a very real civil war. Destroying them from the inside out, leaving behind frayed lines and gapping tears in whatever relationships they used to share.

All because the government couldn’t stand for someone else to have control over their own actions. At least with SHIELD Steve had had Fury, a man who he had known understood the importance of keeping secrets and letting people think only what you want them to. Convince them that they’re the smartest person in the room, and you’ve already won.

Except Tony usually is the smartest man in a room, unless Bruce is there in which it’s probably tied.

Steve missed Fury; he had a knack of whipping them out from whatever personal vendettas they all felt for each other and got them to see the bigger picture, though Steve couldn’t help but wonder which side he would’ve taken.

Some part wanted to believe that it was him, but though Fury might be a man of action he also cringed at the thought of people going rogue.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed slowly, allowing each syllable to roll off his tongue like he’s tasting it, “I thought I could use some company.”

“So take Clint or Natasha. I think they’re going a little stir-crazy on account of not being able to punch or stab anything for the past three days,” Tony proclaimed with a slight shrug, and Steve narrowed his eyes on the other man because he knew he understood what he was asking; he just wanted to hear Steve say it.

Steve refused to fall in that hole, knowing it was more childish of him to treat Tony like Tony was treating him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Tony was the only person that’s ever made him feel like that- not even Bucky had ever been enough to revert him back to his naughty childhood stages.

Fortunately Peter seemed to have caught on, recognition lighting his expression as he tipped his head towards Tony and pronounced with a painfully innocent expression, “I think you should accompany him Mr. Stark. It’ll be good for your figure.”

Tony actually gawked, not even correcting the younger male on his name preference- not that it would’ve mattered but it was always refreshing to know someone was capable of pressing all the right buttons on the other man without even trying.

Then he sputtered as he announced loud and proud, “For your information I have a _great_ figure. Especially for my age. I mean, not everyone can be 27 forever and if you’re not careful then you’re going to wish you could look like me.”

Peter’s smirk just brightened as Erik hide a chuckle behind his palm. Tony immediately spun to glare at him, jabbing the other male into the chest with his finger.

“And you don’t get to laugh at him. That only _encourages_ this type of behavior and last I checked that’s the last thing children need, but do you care? No. Just because I don’t look like perfect-”

He stopped abruptly, face morphing into something tight and painful. Whatever humor Steve found from the situation died as Peter’s smile faltered, concern filling up his eyes.

“Fine. Whatever,” Tony grumbled and Steve suddenly wished he’d never come over here to ask because Tony looked like someone just killed his best friend.

He wasn’t going to protest, though, on account of making everything worst. Erik glanced at Peter, face stern as he silently willed for his son to make this up to Tony. Peter just blinked back, probably as clueless as the rest of them on what could’ve made Tony’s entire attitude shift so drastically.

“Okay,” Steve said slowly, cautiously, “Wanda mentioned something about a store being two miles from here.”

“Well, what are you waiting on Rogers?” Tony demanded as he strolled past him, handing the tablet he had been holding to Peter signaling that he wasn’t really that angry with the kid, before he crammed both fists into his jacket pockets.

Steve jogged after him, allowing his step to falter so he was walking awkwardly behind the shorter male. He narrowed his gaze at Tony’s back, hunched over as angry knots of muscle twisted in tension. He looked stressed but nothing about the previous conversation gave any hints on what could’ve entitled _this_.

“You don’t have to follow me like a kicked puppy Rogers,” Tony grunted out after five minutes of Steve studying his back, “I’m not going to bite you.”

“I know,” Steve reassured quickening his stride so he was beside the other man, “I just thought-”

“With all due respect Rogers, please _stop_ thinking things regarding me or what I want,” Tony interrupted in a harsher tone Steve thought the situation called for, causing a frown to play across his features as he shifted blue eyes to Tony’s hunched form.

“That was-”

“Rude? Uncalled for?” Tony demanded in a tone dripping with venom before he scoffed and added, “Yeah. Well. I always am whenever it comes to you. We can’t all be perfect soldiers, can we?”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“I didn’t mean-” Steve tried, and he really did; all he’s ever done is try when it comes to this man yet Tony _always_ shuts him down or scoffs like he thinks he’s an idiot and he just doesn’t understand what he’s done to deserve the cold shoulder.

Besides, Tony had been a jerk when they’d first met. Then he leveled out and Steve just figured that was Tony dealing with things he never really had control over. Now whatever relationship they’ve managed to scrounge up was falling apart once more because Tony was incapable of thinking past anything other than ‘ _Steve bad_.’

And Steve really didn’t have to try.

He didn’t need to reconcile with the other man, nothing was forcing his hand in the matter. At one time he’d genuinely liked Tony, enjoyed his company and the way his eyes lit up whenever science was involved- even when he was forced to simplify it for Steve’s sake.

“Whatever,” Tony scoffed once more, cramming his hands down further in his pockets as he picked up his stride.

Steve easily followed, swallowing any sort of retort down. There wasn’t really a reason to make a bad situation worst but he was done trying to ear Tony’s forgiveness. Tony so clearly didn’t want it, and Steve was done trying.

The rest of the walk was done in silence, Tony brooding most of the way while Steve distracted himself with their surroundings. Having grown up in Brooklyn he’d never got a chance to play in the woods as a child. Then he joined the army and he was in the woods for a completely different reason, every second spent knowing it could be his last.

They made good time and Steve was slightly impressed that Tony didn’t even look winded. Not that he thought the other man was in poor shape he just seemed to be built differently that the rest of them. Until several years ago he hadn’t been anything other than a genius billionaire with more free time in a day than an average person gets in a month.

Tony caught him staring, eyebrow arching up on his forehead, but he didn’t say anything like Steve expected him too. He just sighed heavily before making his way into the store, a small bell dangling over their heads when they walked in.

 _Clang, clang_.

Steve arched his head to look at it, surprised to see an actual bell resting with a string attached to it. It’s been a while since he’s seen one of those, most of the time the bell was some sort of machine that only sounded like a bell ringing when it was actually a computer.

It sent a rush of nostalgia through him, twisting something inside him as he thought of a time that made sense. Simpler times where his biggest concern was how he’d be able to settle down with the lanky form he’d been graced.

He sensed eyes on him so he tipped his head to the side, glimpsing the girl behind the counter staring at him like she thought he was a freak. He offered her a thin embarrassed smile before he moved to find Tony, hoping he wouldn’t have to strike another argument with the man because he chose to stalk Wanda’s shelves with junk food.

He found Tony browsing through the bread, occasionally squeezing a loaf before he put it back on the shelf. Steve’s mother used to do that, something Steve never fully understood, but Tony seemed comically focused on that task.

“You know I never understood that,” Steve piped in, earning him a side glance from the genius before he settled on the one he was holding as he tossed it in the basket on his arm.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tony brushed off as he moved down the aisle, and Steve bristled at being blown off by this man _again_.

Instead of gracing him with another response that’ll only make him look and feel like an idiot, he dutifully followed the shorter male. Tony made several other stops, going through everything with a critical eye before placing them in his basket. It also didn’t escape his attention that none of things Tony picked up was cheap- not like the off brand stuff Steve had grown up on.

“I hope you don’t get the wrong idea but I don’t think I have enough cash on me to afford a third of that,” Steve finally spoke up, cringing at the way that made him sound but he knew it needed to be said.

“I sure hope not,” Tony brushed off with a dismissive wave, “What, with being on the run from the government because, _as it turns out_ , I’m not the only one who doesn’t know how to play nice with others.”

“Tony-” Steve frowned because there was something dangerous underlining his voice that made his stomach twist in painful little knots.

Tony suddenly halted to a stop, Steve nearly ramming him over and for a split second Steve was worried that Tony was going to pitch another fight with him in the middle of the convince store. Instead Tony started ruffling through the jars of peanut butter lining the shelves.

“What do you think?” Tony asked with a contemplative expression silently telling Steve to drop it, “Jiff or Peter Pan. I’m more of a Jiff man myself, but you strike me more of the Peter Pan type. I mean men in tights have to stick together, am I right?”

Steve reached out to grab the nearest Jiff bottle before discarding it in the basket. Tony gave him an unimpressed look, but he didn’t suddenly pull away or make a crack about his self-worth or lack of trust they always seemed to share. Instead he tilted his head to the side and waited for Steve to speak first.

It was almost embarrassing that the thing that came out of his mouth was, “Tony you can’t keep avoiding me. We need to talk.”

“Well I’m here and you’re here so talk,” Tony replied back but he shifted his basket so it sat between the two of them, and Steve recognized the move as someone trying to shield themselves from someone that’s hurt them before and could hurt them again.

Steve never wanted to be that person, never thought he’d be that person.

“What’re we doing Tony?” Steve demanded as he deflated his shoulders, trying to make himself as nonthreatening as he could.

“Shopping, I thought,” Tony supplied with a crane of his neck as he tried making himself appear taller than he actually was.

Steve huffed in frustration because- no- the man knew what he was talking about but because it was _Tony_ he refused to do anything except suppress it until it blew back in his face, and Steve had already allowed that to happen once.

In the front of the store the bell jingled again, sounding more ominous than when they’d entered. The way Tony’s entire form tensed Steve knew that he felt it too.

A split second later a bullet tore against the ceiling, sending dust and plaster raining down over the trio of men in ski masks. A switch flipped somewhere in the back of Steve’s head, his hands reaching out to jerk Tony down in a low crouch. The man let out a startled yelp, causing Steve to flinch as he turned to see if the robbers had heard.

Of course they did.

“You two!” one of the robbers that hadn’t shot the ceiling called as black boots made his way towards them; Steve tensed, ready to pounce on the guy but Tony’s hand clamped over his bicep stalling and giving the robber a chance to shove his gun in his face as he commanded, “Up. Both of you.”

Behind him Tony obeyed, rising to his feet gracefully. The basket still dangled from the crook of his arm, and the robber reached out to rip it from him. He let out a soft sound of protest but considering the gun was still directed at Steve’s head he didn’t fight back. He didn’t even speak, which was a shock because Tony always had something to say about _everything_.

“Over there. Now,” the robber commanded once Tony was within his grasp, reaching out and jerking him from behind Steve to where the other two robbers where pacing like caged lions; except these lions had guns.

Steve missed his shield.

The gun jabbed itself back against his shoulder as Tony was shoved back down on his knees as the robber barked, “You. Up.”

Steve hesitated, eyes flickering over to where Tony was being flaunted over by the robber who shot the ceiling when they’d entered. His muscles tensed when the man grabbed Tony’s chin, jerking his head back so Tony was forced to look up at the man.

“You look familiar,” the robber stated slowly, and Steve’s muscles jerked on instinct because the last thing anybody needed was for Tony to be recognized and taken hostage.

Unfortunately the robber saw his sudden movement as a threat and pulling the trigger was quicker than anything Steve would’ve been able to do. The force of the bullet planting itself in his shoulder knocked him over, his head banging against the shelves knocking over several jars of peanut butter. They rolled lazily around his head, making him dizzy.

“You bastard!” Tony shouted from far off, Steve vaguely away of his hand reaching up to grasp at his shoulder; something thick and wet leaking through his fingers.

He’d been shot.

Dear Lord he’s been shot in the middle of a robbery; how could this possibly get any worst?

“Stay down,” someone shouted followed by the sound of someone getting struck against the head so hard it made Steve’s head hurt.

Or it could’ve been the blood loss. Either one.

Before he got a chance to contemplate it further a hand reached down and jerked him up to his feet. The gun was pressed in his side once more, like Steve was going to attack him immediately after shooting him. Steve needed at least five minutes to get over the initial shock.

Tony was at his side, hand pressed against his bruising cheek and glare coloring his expression. Steve felt a rush of something hot flare inside of him at the sight, but at least they weren’t studying Tony’s face anymore.

A hand shoved his shoulder, pushing him on his knees beside Tony. Tony was immediately on him, prying Steve’s hand away so he could take a better look at his wound. His face was bunched up in that focused way he got whenever he’d work on his projects.

Despite the circumstances Steve found a pained smile crossing his face as he grunted softly, “You look worried.”

Tony furrowed his brow as he gave him that look that signaled just how dumb he thought Steve was. Steve didn’t mind all that much because Tony’s hands were comforting as they stroked and studied the injury before he pulled away.

“You’ll be alight. It’s just a flesh wound,” Tony explained and he turned around with a neutral expression, back to pretending that he didn’t care about him.

The third robber- the one that had been pointing his gun at the counter girl- turned to take in the scene happening behind him. He glanced at his watch without moving his arms, grunting in dissatisfaction and he was starting to look a little twitchy.

Steve knew they needed to regain control over the situation.

“Money in the bag,” he snapped at the terrified girl and she blinked, moving her attention away from Steve’s shoulder as she blinked back at the robber frightfully.

“He’s bleeding,” she gasped, still not moving and this was why Steve didn’t like involving civilians, “He needs an ambulance.”

“I’m fine,” Steve grunted out because he needed her to put the money in the bag and give it to the robbers so they’ll leave.

All it earned him was a clonk to the head by the butt of one of the robber’s behind him gun. His head jerked forward, a sharp pain crawling down his neck to his spine and he didn’t like the feeling of powerlessness.

“Back off man!” Tony protested, eyes narrowed in protective fury and the sudden change in the man was nice; it almost felt like the time before the accords and Bucky and secrets that would’ve been better off not known.

“You want a bullet through that pretty little skull of yours?” the man who’d hit Steve demanded angrily, pressing the end of his gun between Tony’s eyes; Tony didn’t reply, just glared defiantly up at him and Steve felt a brief moment of awe.

When they’d first met, Tony came off as a man that was all talk and no action. He proved him wrong, of course, when he’d flown the missile up into space but even then some part of Steve always figured that everything Tony was was a metal suit twenty years above normal technology.

Somehow he forgot that before everything else, Tony was a Stark and Stark men don’t quit. No matter the circumstances.

“Oh my God no,” the girl begged behind the counter, eyes wide and fearful as she made quick jerky movements as she shoved money into a bag even as she babbled, “Please don’t shoot him. Please, dear God, don’t shoot him.”

He didn’t- thank God- but he did rear back and strike Tony back across the face. Tony grunted, head snapping to the side but he managed to stay upright. When he glanced back up he caught Steve’s gaze and he must’ve not liked something he saw in there because he frowned tensely back.

“I’m not going to ask again!” the robber by the door shouted, taking a threatening step towards the girl.

She hiccupped, bag tumbling from her hand and money raining on the floor like fat raindrops. She practically choked in her fear, freezing just long enough to agitate the robber enough to send his gun down across her skull.

Something in Steve literally snapped.

Without much thought he leapt to his feet and launched himself at the man. The gunshot wound cried out in pain, reminding him that he’d just recently got shot. He also left the other two robbers at his back, something that could’ve very well killed him with a precise shot in his back.

His arms wrapped around the man’s waist, and they both went down as the robber pulled the trigger. A bullet clanged against the counter, burrowing itself in the metal and wood. The girl screamed, hands wrapping over her head in a protective cocoon.

The rest was easy. Steve reared back, punching the robber’s face and felt the body underneath him fall limp. Unconscious. Steve let him go, spinning on his heel half expecting for the other two robbers to be descending on him threateningly.

They weren’t even conscious.

Tony stood between them, gun in either hand. He was glaring too, but it was hard to make out who he was angry at. Then he spun around and threw the guns down one of the aisles, chest heaving.

“Tony?” Steve asked, confused and suddenly terrified at what the man was about to do.

Tony spun towards him, expression practically on fire as he stepped over the unconscious robbers and Steve realized this might’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Not that Steve understood how any of this had been his fault but, whatever, they were in desperate need of a conversation where Tony wasn’t dodging him at every turn.

“Damn you Rogers!” he shouted, finger pointed at him furiously and the sheer anger he forced out shocked Steve, “ _Damn_ you!”

“Tony, calm down,” Steve hushed because there was a time and place for everything and he was starting to feel his wound.

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!” Tony screamed back, face red and he looked like he’d pop any second which Steve kind of worried about because they’d just survived a robbery and he’d hate to have to explain how Tony dropped dead from an anger-induced aneurysm or something.

“Tony please,” Steve tried, voice gentle and hands splayed at his sides in what he hoped was a passive gesture; Tony didn’t seem soothed, if anything he only looked angrier, but then Steve grunted in pain because his shoulder _hurt_.

Tony’s eyes widened in shock, color draining from his face as he cursed, “ _Shit_ Rogers. You okay? Shit. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I forgot.”

“I’m fine,” Steve promised because he was, it wasn’t anything more than a flesh wound but it felt like someone was jabbing a knife through his skin.

Tony took the wound in once more before he gave a firm nod and commanded, “Sit. I’ll be right back.”

Steve obeyed, finding a spot beside the sobbing girl. He reached out setting a comfort hand against her shoulder. Her head snapped up, eyes wide with fear, and he offered her a supportive smile.

“It’s okay now,” he promised and she nodded like she understood, eyes red and puffy but there was a strength in them Steve knew she could feel pride in.

Tony returned with a roll of duct tape, a thing of floss, some needles, and a thing of rubbing alcohol. He dumped them at Steve’s feet, tossing the duct tape at the girl with a snap of his fingers.

“Do me a favor and tie these jokers up, will you?” he asked and though his body was still tense with adrenaline his voice was gentle and understanding.

There was still so many sides of Tony Steve’s yet to see. His fault, he knew, because Tony had been willing to open up so quickly with Bruce. He would’ve been willing to open up to Steve as well if Steve hadn’t chosen to keep everything grasped against his chest.

She nodded, eyes wide with a star struck expression that had been absent with Steve. Steve swallowed the burst of jealousy, returning his focus on Tony half expecting for him to be grinning at him gloatingly. He didn’t even seem to notice as he grabbed a box cutter from the counter and sliced Steve’s sleeve off. Tony pulled off the fabric, leaving a long hole from the crook of Steve’s neck to underneath his armpit.

“You know if you’d ask nicely I would’ve removed my shirt,” Steve tried even as Tony balled the bloodied rag by their legs.

“I didn’t want you to agitate the wound further,” Tony explained as he uncapped the alcohol bottle with his teeth as he added, “and now I don’t have to conceive a plan on destroying it.”

It took Steve a moment before he realized Tony was joking. By then Tony had already moved on, pouring the liquid in the cap before dropping a needle in it. He used his fingers to completely submerge it before he unwound a long string of floss, snipping it at the end.

“So you wanna know the good news or the bad news?” Tony asked, hands steady as he removed the needle and threaded the floss into it.

“Give me the good news,” Steve replied almost instantly, voice firm even when Tony held the needle in front of him; beads of liquid dripped down the tip.

“I don’t have to perform surgery on you so, lucky you,” Tony announced and Steve forced out a laugh because this was the Tony he knew; this was the one he missed.

“And the bad news?” Steve tried, keeping his eyes locked on Tony’s expression as the man seemed to eye his wound warily.

“This is going to hurt.”

Steve lifted his head, focusing his gaze on Tony’s pinched up expression as he promised truthfully, “I trust you Tony.”

Tony didn’t reply, but he had been right.

It did hurt.

-:-

“You’re a tough sonovabitch, you know that Rogers?” Tony demanded as he leaned back on his heels almost three hours later, and Steve shrugged only to wince when it jerked at his recently stitched shoulder.

“I’ll have you know that my mother was a fantastic woman,” Steve supplied with a lazy drawl, muscles tense from sitting in the same place for a prolonged time.

“I’m sure,” Tony agreed rising to his feet, “Well until I return I need you to _sit_ and _stay_ and, who knows, I might get you a treat later.”

Steve rolled his head as he allowed himself to bark out, “Woof,” without laughing.

Tony did and it was such a welcomed sound that a smile split across Steve’s face instantly. He watched as Tony grabbed a basket from beside the door and moved in quick strides as he filled it with enough food to last them till the end of the week.

“Oh no,” the girl protested when Tony shoved several wrinkled hundred dollar bills at her, “I can’t accept all of this.”

“Keep it and consider the change as a little tip,” Tony reassured with a wave of his hand and even though Steve knew it was probably pocket change to the billionaire it was still more than enough any normal person could ever hope for.

Then Tony was back at his side, taking out an ugly brown scarf and a jacket that looked like it belonged on a fat Eskimo. Steve eyed the items warily, knowing they were for them but really hoping they weren’t because ugly was understating it.

“Alright Rogers I’m going to need you to bare with me through this,” Tony grunted as he checked his stitching once more before forcing the jacket over Steve’s muscled chest.

It was too big, dangling over around his waist but Tony didn’t even seem to notice. He just tied the scarf around Steve’s neck into a makeshift sling. Tony spent several more moments fretting over every little thing before his hands stilled as he must’ve declared it perfect.

Well, perfect enough under the circumstances which in Tony’s world meant better than most health clinics. Steve’s eyes flickered to the place he knew the arc reactor sat underneath his clothing as he wondered what it must’ve been like in that cave when he had to build the impossible or die.

“Alright big fella, up and at em,” Tony huffed as he jerked on Steve’s good arm, wrapping it around his shoulders in support.

Steve allowed himself to be pulled up, leaning heavily against the shorter male before he was able to get his feet underneath him. Tony let him go, swooping down to pick up their groceries before he lead him out the door. Not before he turned around to the clerk once more, informing her to call the police ten minutes after they leave.

She nodded, eyes still sparkling every time she looked at him and Steve didn’t know if that was because she recognized him as a Stark or because he’d managed to take down two of the three robbers easily. Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to know, Tony seemingly oblivious to it all.

Steve trailed behind Tony, taking in his frame and finding comfort in the knowledge that Tony no longer looked angry at him. It was coming, though, Steve could _feel_ it.

Wanda and Clint were the ones that greeted them outside the cabin, the sun having long since set and the chilly air of the cold nights started creeping up around them, and Steve was infinitely thankful of the heavy coat Tony had forced him in before leaving the convenience store.

Clint’s eyes widened to large disks as he took in the sight of Steve, immediately rushing towards him. Tony ignored the other man, pressing the groceries in Wanda’s hold as he moved for the cabin. Steve watched him go, desperately wanting to call him back over before he was overwhelmed by the other two’s concern.

“What the hell happened man?” Clint demanded taking in the sling and jacket before spinning on Tony’s retreating form and shouted, “What the hell Stark? You really that incapable of running a simple grocery run?”

“Fuck you Barton,” Tony snapped without turning to face him as he added in a much more venomous tone, “Why don’t you ask Mr. Perfect Hero instead of immediately jumping on my case about it?”

Then he was gone, door slamming with his exit.

Clint just rolled his eyes as he turned back to Steve with a simple, “Drama queen,” but Steve felt his gaze linger on the door Tony just disappeared behind.

If Tony hadn’t been there Steve would’ve died.

Well maybe not something so drastic- he did trust any number of the others to watch his back- but the way Tony handled the situation had been impressive. The fact that Tony had done it all out of concern for Steve’s wellbeing was even more surprising, in a pleasant sort of way.

“I’m fine,” he promised when Clint reached out to poke at his shoulder, slapping Clint’s hand away and stepping back; he narrowed a focused glare on the man before him as he repeated Tony’s words, “It’s just a flesh wound. Nothing to get worked up over.”

“But what happened?” Clint demanded with a slight whine, pitching his voice higher than Steve originally thought humanly possible.

“There were robbers. I got shot. Nothing to lose sleep over,” Steve shrugged casually, channeling his inner Stark because he’s convinced those men could walk through a tornado and shrug it off as a gentle breeze.

Clint disagreed.

“ _Shit_ man. Shit,” he cursed and even Wanda seemed struck by his confession before Clint’s expression soured angrily as he demanded, “Where was Stark when that was happening? Flirting with a soccer mom, I’m sure.”

Words born from Clint’s anger, Steve knew, but it felt so wrong.

After all if it hadn’t been for Tony then Steve would’ve-

“He was being held at gunpoint,” Steve filled in as he channeled his inner soldier, refusing to allow emotion to overcome him, “and then he took two of the three robbers out before stitching me back up.”

Clint’s expression hollowed out, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, while a sneaky smile stretched over Wanda’s face like she had always known the type of man Tony is. Maybe that had been why she hadn’t fully turned on the man despite choosing Steve’s side, and even that had mostly been because of Clint.

“Stark? _Our_ Stark?” Clint demanded and Steve gave a firm nod, expression twinkling as he thought back to how professional Tony had managed to hold the whole situation together- even the girl.

“He can be quite innovative when he wants to be,” Steve boasted proudly, and he was proud of Tony because despite their rift he still considered Tony as someone very dear to him and he hates when other’s faults force another’s hand.

“But he saved _your_ life,” Clint reminded and Steve gave a firm nod before pushing past him to enter the warmth of the cabin.

Someone had started a fire and he immediately caught sight of Tony sitting on the couch between Peter and Sam, and he didn’t look as out of place by Steve’s friend as Steve expected. A shot of jealousy scorched his chest because _why_ was Tony picking and choosing who he was staying mad at?

Then Natasha descended on him and he was ushered over to the small bed in the corner. No one else seemed to pay either of them any mind as Natasha stripped him of his sling and jacket before unwrapping the cloth bandages Tony had wrapped around the stitching.

“Very professionally done,” Natasha hummed in approval, poking at Steve’s wound as she added, “You’ll be sore a couple of days and have some nasty bruising but you’ll be fine.”

“Glad to hear it,” Steve replied with a nod, making Natasha smile thinly as she sat down at his side.

“So how’d you do it?” she asked curiously and at his confused expression clarified, “Stitch yourself up because I’ve seen enough techniques to know those weren’t done by an amateur.”

And considering he had been a soldier the dots had seemed almost elementary to connect. Steve tried not to focus too much on the fact that Tony had done this multiple times before as he fixed a look back at her, and because he was a terrible liar he told her the truth.

“Tony did it.”

She blinked before acknowledging it with a nod of her own, rising back to her feet to go join the others. On her way behind the couch she reached out to brush her fingertips against the back of Tony’s neck- a sign of affection, Steve had quickly learned, and one that kind of freaked him out at first. It was like she was showing how easily she could kill you but was refraining because she actually _liked_ you.

Tony blinked, startled, tipping his head back so he could frown at her as she perched herself on the armrest of Clint’s chair. Clint didn’t even seem to notice, the two seemingly always in perfect sync. It made something inside of Steve’s chest hurt because he used to have that with Bucky.

Now Bucky was frozen on an unfamiliar country in a city they could barely trust. If T’challa had been any lesser of a man then Steve would’ve fought it because this was Bucky and Steve was done letting those close to him down.

He had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Erik’s approach until the man was standing before him with a glass of water grasped tightly in one hand and asked, “Why don’t you join the rest of us, Captain Rogers?”

“Just Steve’s fine,” Steve protested with a wave of his hand before he answered, “and I don’t think I’d be very welcomed over there.”

Erik gave him a thoughtful expression, like he thought Steve was an idiot and that seemed to be an increasingly popular consensus recently. Then Erik followed the direction of his eyes until they fell upon Tony who was only half-listening, a look of realization lighting up Erik’s face as he hummed in understanding.

“I see,” Erik replied long fingers thrumming against the side of the glass as he turned back to Steve and asked, “Have you tried talking to him?”

A distressed sound vibrated from the back of his throat as Steve threw up a hand and declared feebly, “Tony’s not much of a listener.”

Erik hummed once more as he agreed, “Perhaps not but he’s an excellent talker. Maybe you two should start from there.”

Then Peter called his father over, eyes taking a strange expression when they focused on Steve. Erik just gave Steve one more thoughtful expression before moving to the back of the couch where he could place either hand over Peter’s shoulders. Peter seemed to hum contently, relaxing underneath the hold like he trusted the man with his life- like Steve had known he could trust Tony with his.

And, off the record, he did end up joining the rest of them as they listened to one of Sam’s bizarre war stories.

-:-

Steve’s next chance came later that night, the pain in his shoulder keeping him up while he struggled in finding a comfortable position to sleep in. It was because of that they he was able to hear Tony rise to his feet, socked feet creeping stealthily across the wooden floor before slipping outside.

Steve laid on his back a moment longer, silently contemplating what would be the best course of action.

Coming to a swift decision, he rolled over and followed the other man out just in time to see him disappear inside his plane. Steve didn’t hesitate in following, the cold air making most of the decision for him.

Tony’s plane was pleasantly warm, and he found the man sitting in the pilot’s chair. One of his legs was pulled to his chest while the other was stretched out so the back of his heel was propped against the control panel.

“You know you don’t have to slink around every time I do something without consulting you first,” Tony told him without turning around and his voice sounded haunted, “I’m not going to run off. Not while Peter and Erik are still here.”

“They both think highly of you,” Steve agreed as he remained standing awkwardly behind Tony, arms crossed in front of him like he’d address a war general.

Tony scoffed before he replied bitingly, “Yeah. I’m shocked you haven’t corrupted them yet. No, don’t follow Tony, he’s too selfish and conceited and-”

“No one thinks that of you,” Steve jumped in immediately, stepping forward with a wide eyed expression because it sounded wrong coming from Tony’s mouth.

Tony laughed acidly as he demanded in a self-deprecating tone, “Don’t they? I think you need to dig your head out of your ass there, Cap. It’s starting to blind you.”

“No one that matters thinks that of you,” Steve corrected because, okay, someone out there probably thought those things but they didn’t really know Tony; they haven’t seen the things he’s done or everything he’s given away.

Tony’s chair swiveled around so he could stare at him incredulously as he demanded, “You trying to say you don’t matter Captain?”

Steve blinked- _when_ did Tony get _that_ impression- before he shook his head and corrected, “I’d never think those things about you. I’ve seen the things you’ve done, Stark. I was there when you started _Limbs for Wounded Soldiers_ and all those other foundations-”

“Like the Maria Stark Foundation?” Tony asked leaping from his chair like he was going to take a swing at Steve but instead Tony just stared angrily at him as he added, “Or the Rogers Scholarship for soldiers that just returned from war?”

Steve actually hadn’t known Tony named an entire scholarship after him. Maybe his intensive attention to everything around him was slipping, softening.

“But none of that matters, right? Because you don’t _trust_ me,” Tony continued, sounding pained and angry, and Steve’s never wanted to hug someone so badly before in his life.

He refrained, unsure how Tony would take to that. The man was staring up at him with wide expressive eyes that seemed to shine with his pain, and Steve didn’t want to be the cause of that. He never thought that he’d ever have to worry about something like that.

When did he become someone he hated when he was younger?

“But it doesn’t matter, right?” Tony huffed when Steve still didn’t reply, plopping himself back into his chair and turned it so they were no longer looking at each other, “Because I’m literally the guy without a heart. Just metal and a bright light and no impulse control.”

Steve’s heard enough.

He just wished the thing he didn’t suddenly blurt out was, “I don’t hate you.”

Tony fell silent, caught off-guard by the sudden confession. It mustn’t have lasted very long as the next moment he snorted softly, hand massaging his temple wearily. He looked so old all of a sudden, unnerving Steve greatly.

Then he released another heavy breath once more as he replied softly, “No. I suppose you don’t. I do, though, and I’m stuck with me 24/7 so…”

He trailed off, hand falling to his side and it was like a jerk inside Steve’s chest because this had not gone the way he’d thought it would. He certainly never suspected that Tony’s self-loathing had continued and grown so far past Maria and Howard’s deaths.

It was going to take a lot more than an apology to cure this one for this one.

“Tony-” he tried and, _dammit_ , he did.

Tony just spun around as he demanded bitingly, “You want to know why I was angry with you about the robbery Rogers? Because you always have to be the hero about every little thing, and it’s like you’re stuck in this little war we’re all stuck fighting because you’re incapable of moving from the past.”

Steve’s apology stuck in the back of his throat as he snapped defensively back, “You’re the one to lecture me about moving on, Stark. I know you’re still upset about your parents’ accident.”

“My parents’-” Tony blinked and Steve knew he’d messed up (again) before Tony ground out in a low throaty voice, “You mean their not accident that I’d thought was an accident until several months ago? That accident? Because, _yes_ , I’m still moving past the fact that your best friend had been the one that choked the life from my mom as she begged him to stop-”

His voice caught in the back of his throat, head turning away like he was suddenly embarrassed of showing any sort of emotion in front of Steve.

The words ‘ _it hadn’t been_ _Bucky’s fault_ ’ were on the tip of Steve’s tongue, but he knew they would only cause more harm than good at the moment, and he figured Bucky would forgive him just this once for not immediately jumping to his defense.

So instead Steve shook his head as he protested, “I don’t want to fight you Tony,” and he expected Tony to pitch a fit because he so clearly wanted to fight _him_ at the moment; it was written all over Tony’s face, his posture, but strangely his eyes to on a look of defeat.

Tony released a heavy breath as he replied tiredly, “Me neither. I’m too tired to continue with that. Besides, it wasn’t like I was ever destined to win. Everyone always seem to fall at your feet, hanging onto your every word.”

Steve recalled the girl in the convenience store and realized Tony was so encompassed in comparing his worth to everyone else’s that he’s forgot to measure his own.

How was Steve able to miss all of that when it’d been right under his nose the whole time? He was officially the worst leader ever.

“I never meant to hurt you Tony,” Steve tried gently, but Tony just scoffed disbelievingly as he hid his face in the crook of his hand.

“Why’d you keep it from me then?” Tony asked and his voice sounded as worn as he looked, “Why didn’t you tell me someone killed my parents, even if you hadn’t known at the time who?”

“Because I had been scared,” Steve admitted softly, genuinely, “I- Fury had told me before we uncovered Hydria that he suspected the Starks’ death hadn’t been an accident, and all I knew was that he was telling me that one of my closest friends had been murdered.”

“That’s impossible,” Tony denied, “I studied every part of SHIELD and not once did I find anything remotely close to my parents’ death.”

“Fury was never SHIELD, and I don’t know why he told me only that he had and I hadn’t known what to do with the information,” Steve explained and he could see the tension ebb from Tony’s expression.

“So why didn’t you tell me?” Tony finally asked after a long pause, “Because you were afraid I’d jump up and down in joy knowing someone killed my father- _your_ friend?”

“No. It was because I was afraid what you’d do trying to avenge them, and I hadn’t been ready to lose another friend so soon.”

The words were soft, gentle, and it was the first time since Steve vowed to keep quiet about it to Tony that that was the only truth. Everything else had just sort of happened.

Tony’s fingers awkwardly scratched at the armrest of his chair before he stilled his hand. He looked conflicted, emotions shifting back and forth in his eyes before he finally spoke.

“You wanna know how I met Rhodey?”

The question seemed to come from nowhere, but Steve found himself nodding all the same. He figured they’ve kept enough secrets between each other, and if Tony thought this was going to help then Steve was going to hear him out.

“It was at college,” Tony explained without the dramatic flourish Steve’s come to know so well, “I had been fifteen at the time, desperate to prove myself and make as many friends as possible.”

He paused, eyes flickering over to him like he expected for Steve to comment on how childish or immature that was. Steve just nodded, not trusting his voice and eager to hear the end of this. Tony puffed out his cheeks before he continued in a slow tone.

“Rhodey had made it all on a scholarship, having had to work for everything in his life so no one expected for either of us to ever meet and we probably wouldn’t have. Not with the way I was acting, eager to please and willing to do anything if it meant adding a few new friends under my belt- except they were never really my friends and I-

“There’d been this party. One of the major fraternities hosted it and Rhodey would’ve probably never gone if his father hadn’t been one of their alumni so he felt obligated to at least check it out. I just knew that they’d let me hang out with them, the coolest people on all of campus, if I’d do whatever they said and it’d never been anything major so I figured- why not? These people love me.”

Steve felt an uncomfortable clench of his stomach, brain already drawing lines and connecting dots he’d much rather remain separate. Tony didn’t even seem to notice, lost in the memory.

“There had been alcohol at the party which, okay, there hadn’t been anything strange about that only one of the older boys- Justin Hammer- had practically been slammed and he’d taken me up to one of the bedrooms because he’d wanted to show me something. I’d gone, of course, and he’d certainly shown me something. They all did.”

“Sweet Lord,” Steve hissed, knowing exactly what Tony meant and hating the thought that something like that had ever happened to the genius.

Tony didn’t seem to notice the interruption. He just continued on with his story.

“Rhodey found me crying in the bathroom, and he’d taken me to the hospital and promised to keep it under wraps even though he clearly wanted to punch them in the face- not that it mattered. Not when they leaked the video and then he _did_ punch them.”

Steve felt sick because he’s heard some pretty terrible stories before but he’d never imagined anything like that happening to someone he actually knew. Not like _that_.

Tony gave a wet chuckle as he said, “It’s kind of funny, that’s the first time I’ve ever known my dad to be gentle to me despite Obie’s instance that I had been old enough to make my own decisions and didn’t need my father hovering over my every move. Dad hadn’t listened, but whenever he thought I wasn’t paying attnetion he seemed so _angry_.”

“Not at you,” Steve reassured instantly because he might not have known the extent of Howard’s parenting but he knew he’d never blame Tony for something like _that_ happening to him.

“I know,” Tony agreed with a shy smile, “I think some part of me always knew he’d do anything for me, he’d just been blinded by his constant need in finding you or talking about you and, I don’t know, somewhere along the line I just started hating you.”

Steve swallowed because he hadn’t known _that_ either.

He should’ve, but he didn’t.

“Why are you telling me this?” Steve asked because he wasn’t a genius and he didn’t see why Tony would tell him such a private and personal matter after everything that’s happened between them.

Tony matched his gaze as he shrugged and replied, “I don’t know. I guess I just thought you needed to know that I trust you too. That most days I hate you and want to punch you until you bleed but when it comes down to it I trust your intuition and that hadn’t been why I’d wanted to sign the Accords. I just- if we had continued fighting fights that had nothing to do with us, killing innocent bystanders, then we wouldn’t be any different than our enemies and I’m tired of being like my enemies.”

Steve paused at that, mind chewing the words in careful thought as he decided that as well as not being a liar Tony Stark was certainly not a stupid man.

It was a nice thought.

-:-

The room was dark, empty except for the long tube set in the middle. A sheet of protective glass wrapped around half of it, giving him a chance to look at what was inside- a person with shaggy black hair and metal arm.

Justin set his palm to the glass, fingers splayed out over where the arm laid as he muttered in fascination, “Just what have you seen over the years, soldier?”

And he’s heard the rumors, stories, of how people remain alive and youthful over centuries because they freeze their bodies. A feat he would’ve deemed impossible if not for Steve Rogers or the man currently lying in front of him.

He trailed his finger over to where the man’s heart should’ve been as he continued in a soft tone, “A little birdy told me that you almost lost to the great Tony Stark. He’s a major pain, is he not?”

The man didn’t respond, still frozen.

It hadn’t been easy finding him, either.

Steve Rogers had obviously been his first option, but something about the man informed Justin that he’d never willing participate in injuring Stark. He did, however, know where the blond Avenger was saying and after a cryptic news report of Wakanda being ripping apart by its seams he’d managed to place the two together. The rest had been child’s play.

Unlike Stark Industries, his company held peace treaties and contracts with foreign governments- a reputation he’s spent most of his life building. The king of this city had no idea of the real reason he was there because normally people don’t think of hiding frozen bodies from their guests.

Justin smirked victoriously to himself, curious to know who and what Tony had managed to wrap himself in this time, as he made his way around the chamber to the tubes keeping James Barnes alive while he’s under. He reached out, jerking them from their sockets before stepping back to observe his work.

Alarms immediately signaled over his head, but he didn’t care. James was already waking up, eyes fluttering open as he gasped body tilting towards the glass. Dark eyes caught sight of Justin, standing several feet away with a victorious smirk and they narrowed dangerously.

James reared his metal arm back, smashing the fragile glass with a well-aimed shot and black boots tumbled out. They clicked against the marble floor, the glare never leaving the other man’s face.

“Who’re you?” James slurred dangerously, “What’d you want?”

“My name is Justin Hammer,” Justin explained with an outstretched hand, “and I’m here to help you.”

“I never asked for that,” James snapped reluctantly, only glancing down at Justin’s hand and Justin honestly hadn’t been expecting for him to be such a dense idiot.

Then again, to him, everyone was a dense idiot.

“I know what you’ve done Winter Soldier,” Justin continued with a smug expression, relishing the man’s flinch at the name, “and I know what you’re capable of but first we need to get out of here.”

James hesitated but the alarms seemed to spur some sort of self-preservation instinct so he trailed behind Justin as he led him to where his private jet was waiting. Once they were safely inside, though, his entire demeanor changed.

A hand caught the back of Justin’s throat, swinging his body in an arc before slamming it against the wall. He gasped, stunned, but refused to lose his cool to someone like the man behind him- inferior in every way. His only use- the only reason he’d been kept alive- was so people like Justin could get the things they wanted.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Justin protested, palms pressed against the wall in front of him as he hummed, “Peace. Just hear me out.”

James’ grip only tensed, squeezing his neck, as he grunted out, “Talk.”

“I need your help to find someone,” Justin explained sensibly, “and I’ve heard that you’re the best at finding people.”

“I don’t do that anymore. I don’t hurt people,” James snapped back through gritted teeth, and how did anybody find it sensible to let the man live then?

He only had one use: hunting down and killing whoever men like Justin deemed fit. Whatever, Justin was a problem solver and he could work through this. He could make this work.

“I just want to find him,” Justin argued before adding, “I think you’ve already met.”

James’s demeanor went stock still before Justin was flipped over so his back was pressed against the wall, giving him a chance to look into the man’s eyes. They were practically on fire, two pieces of coal smoldering under the fire.

“Who?”

Justin’s mouth just spread into a wide grin as he replied back, “Tony Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> In my defense about the matter of Tony and Rhodey meeting in the Ultimate comic Tony's legs got stuck in a furnace completely burning them off and while I had played with that idea I found this one more practical for the flow of the rest of the story. Sorry to all of you because it's a terrible thing that shouldn't happen to anyone but Hammer's a dick so....


End file.
